


What He Wants

by debit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:12:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debit/pseuds/debit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape deals with Harry in the aftermath of the events of OotP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Wants

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2003.

Whenever we confront an unbridled desire we are surely in the presence of a tragedy-in-the-making.  
\--Quentin Crisp

 

As usual, Severus Snape stood alone when every other member of the Order bought into Dumbledore's Poor Potter Propaganda. Oh, the dear sweet boy, we have to rescue him from those awful people, he'll go into a decline, he's depressed, suffered a loss, poor darling, he might do something rash. Since Potter had made a hobby of creative suicide attempts since age 11, Severus considered the last to be a sucker's bet. That he was to have a ringside seat for the drama wasn't much of a consolation.

He was, therefore, rather surprised when Potter made his appearance at Number 12 Grimmauld without fanfare, theatrics or outbursts. He took the news he'd be spending the rest of the summer in the company of his most hated professor without a change of expression, just put away his broom, and calmly asked if he could have Black's old room.

Molly Weasley wrung her hands before saying, "Harry. We haven't had a chance to clean it out yet. All of his things are still-"

"That's fine, "Potter had said. "I want to… I mean… It's fine. If you'll excuse me."

Much to his disgust, Severus noticed that Minerva sniffed back a tear as he'd trudged up the stairs.

There wasn't even a reaction the next day when Kreacher wandered through the kitchen. Potter simply gave him an expressionless glance, then resumed pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate.

"This isn't like him," Albus said after the boy left the table.

"Thank Merlin for small favors."

"Severus, how unkind of you. The boy is grieving."

"Good. Perhaps in future he'll think before he acts. We're lucky Black was the only victim of his stupidity."

Even though he didn't argue the point, Severus still couldn't help feeling slightly ashamed when Albus' eyes lost their twinkle and regarded him with sad disappointment.

He suspected that was the only reason why he didn't flat out refuse when Albus told him to treat the boy gently.

However, the concept of gentleness was simply beyond his realm of experience, so he settled for the next best thing and left the boy alone. After some time and effort, one of the empty rooms made an adequate makeshift potions lab, and Severus found himself content to spend the majority of his days there. He only emerged for meals and, remembering Albus' admonishing look, made an effort not to scowl when Potter deigned to leave his room and join him.

Sulking, Severus thought, willfully ignoring the memory of that first night when the sound of choked sobs escaped under Potter's closed door.

So it was odd when he heard Potter's voice coming from the sitting room. Odd enough that he paused and listened.

"I swear I'll do it."

"Kreacher does not believe you."

"It's my house now. I can."

"You are not a Black."

"Does it matter?"

"My mistress…"

"Do you think anyone else will care? Will even notice you're dead?"

Severus stepped into the room and barked out, "Potter, stop threatening the House Elf."

"He is not threatening Kreacher," the elf said, eyes inscrutable.

Potter didn't even look at him, just said to the elf, "Think about it."

Kreacher gave Potter a long, curious look, then shuffled past Severus out the door.

"I'm warning you, Potter--" he began.

"I'm not going to hurt him," Potter interrupted.

By now Severus could read him well enough to sense a lie, but couldn't find a trace of one in Potter's eyes.

Potter met his searching gaze without flinching and repeated, "I'm not going to hurt him. You have my word."

"Your word," Severus said coldly, "means less than nothing to me."

"It means something to Dumbledore," Potter said in a steady voice, "and I promised him I wouldn't hurt Kreacher. Or," he added when Severus opened his mouth to speak again, "set him free. I know what would happen if I did, and the last thing I want is to add more victims to my stupidity."

As a parting shot it lacked grace, but nevertheless left Severus standing quite still as Potter brushed past him, leaving him alone and feeling... odd.

It wasn't, he told himself later, guilt he felt. He'd spoken nothing but the truth, and if Potter finally realized the full consequences of his rash actions, then it could only be best for everyone concerned. And perhaps this would teach Mister Potter the dangers of eavesdropping.

However, eavesdropping was not something Severus was averse to, so he paused on his way to the kitchen a few days later when he heard Potter's voice in the study.

"And where does this go?"

"Kreacher does not recall."

"I think it looks good here. No?"

"Kreacher thinks it used to belong on the mantle."

When Severus stepped into the room, Potter and the elf turned to him with identically expressionless faces. An onyx urn bearing the name Pollux Black sat on the previously empty mantle. "What are you doing?"

As they exchanged glances like conspirators, he expected a clumsy explanation, but Potter simply said, "Decorating."

Kreacher gave him an enigmatic look, then snapped his fingers and disappeared.

When Severus said, "Decorating?" Potter merely shrugged.

"Dumbledore said to make friends with him. I'm just trying to make him…happy."

Making Kreacher happy kept Potter quiet and out of his hair, so Severus held his tongue when certain dark artifacts Molly Weasley had consigned to the attic reappeared, and when previously empty bookcases began to fill up. While none of the objects or books were, in the strictest sense, harmless, neither were any of them overtly dangerous unless used, and Potter was too much of a Gryffindor for Severus to worry much about that.

Besides, Potter had enough people worrying about him. Dumbledore, Molly Weasley, Lupin, hell, even Moody would owl and ask after the brat. It was easy to read between the lines of these casual inquiries; was he well, did he get enough to eat, enough fresh air and exercise? All of these translated to: was he happy?

It was, Severus thought, sickening how many people were concerned with the happiness of one Harry Potter.

Potter ate when he seemed hungry. He spent much of his time in his room, alone or with Kreacher, and was often up late into the night reading, Severus assumed, since he kept a light on. And while that didn't seem especially happy, it wasn't actively suicidal either, so Severus replied that in his opinion, Potter was fine.

But apparently, Dumbledore was just as good at reading between the lines, as two days after his last letter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger showed up for a visit.

They brought noise with them, talk of Quidditch and textbooks, and too loud laughter that eventually settled into hushed conversation. They chirped greetings at him during meals, and seemed to take care to stay out his way during the day, in short, they behaved much the same as they did at school.

So when Dumbledore inquired what Potter was up to now that he had company, Severus was able to answer in one word.

Plotting.

As such, he wasn't surprised when they reacted with poorly concealed delight when he announced his intention to be gone for several hours one day.

"I trust," he said, not even trying to disguise the suspicion in his voice, "that you will keep yourselves harmlessly occupied while I'm away?"

They vigorously nodded, then carefully watched him as he made a show of leaving.

Assuming they were still watching from a window, he walked down the block and turned the corner, then apparated to the basement, where he'd hidden Potter's invisibility cloak the night before. By the time he'd put it on and gone up the stairs he could hear them clatter into the sitting room. He waited behind the door until he heard them name their destination.

After he was certain they were gone, he emerged, threw more powder in the fire and called out, "Knockturn Alley."

Having no idea what they might be up to, Severus was left to make educated guesses. There was no sign of them in Borgin and Burkes, or Mal and Wickes, nor any of the other shops he peered into.

Despite it being the last place he'd expect to find them, he stopped in front of Conium, the most disreputable potion shop in the alley. And, despite his suspicions, the last thing Severus expected to see was Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin walk out of the shop. He had to amend this, however, when a moment later, he saw himself emerge from the doorway and join them.

If it was odd to see Arthur Weasley give his double a hug, it was odder still to see himself surreptitiously tug at his crotch and mutter, "How in god's name do you guys walk around with these things?"

It was strangely satisfying to see his double's face go pale in shock when he stepped out of the shadows, removed the cloak and said, "Years of practice."

They froze. Severus looked at Arthur's red hair and said, "Ronald Weasely." Remus Lupin's mild brown eyes didn't normally shine with quite so much dislike, so Severus said, "Harry Potter. And I can only assume my doppelganger is Miss Granger."

They sent each other a quick glance, as if silently conferring. Judging by the way they each took a breath and rocked back on one heel, the decision to bolt appeared to be unanimous.

"You can, of course, flee," Severus said. "However, as I know where you live, and how to contact your parents, Weasley and Granger, I would advise against it. Unless, of course, you don't plan on ever returning to your homes or Hogwarts. If such is the case, please, feel free to go with my blessing." He firmly grasped Potter's arm and added, "Of course, Mister Potter isn't going anywhere."

They were blessedly silent as he escorted them home.

There was a scene when the Weasleys showed up, en masse, as usual. And as usual, Molly found it impossible to express her displeasure in a tone below a tin whistle shriek. Merlin forbid, Severus thought, that she wait for the privacy of her own home to let loose. There was something almost embarrassing in being forced to watch such vulgar, unthinking emotion, such careless disregard for witnesses. And yet, it was made almost bearable by the way they squirmed in red faced shame, and Granger's case, with tears.

When Mrs. Black joined in the screaming, Severus did his best to tune out the noise by focusing on Potter's reaction. With every shriek, Potter's expression became more emotionless. His eyes seemed focused inward, as if he was considering very deeply a matter of great importance. Most likely, Severus thought, how he was going to get out of this.

It was a relief when the Weasleys left, dragging Potter's conspirators away.

Severus flicked his wand and the curtains snapped shut over Mrs. Black's screaming face. In the silence that followed Severus waited until Potter blinked then focused his gaze on him.

"I shall, of course, be writing the headmaster about this," he said, malice making his voice sharp. "No doubt Arthur Weasely will be doing the same, right after," he added, "he pens his resignation to the Ministry."

"Ron didn't buy anything," he said stonily.

"No, you left that for Miss Granger, so MY reputation will be the one that suffers. Won't it?"

Potter's only reply was an emotionless stare.

"Well, let's see what I'll be adding to my potion stores, shall we?" He looked in the bag and the first thing he pulled out was a bottle of unicorn blood. Suddenly his comments about the possible damage to his reputation gained weight and grew heavier with each label he examined, until he could no longer hold his tongue.

"What was your intent, Potter?" he snapped. "Looking to become the next Dark Lord? Or merely to send some unlucky soul into a hell dimension?"

The answer came, soft yet fierce. "I'm going to bring him back."

"Bring who back?"

Potter just looked at him, eyes sullen and shadowed, mouth bloodless and hard.

He ran the ingredients over again in his mind and slowly blinked as realization hit. "Tell me something, Mister Potter, because I am quite curious. At what point over the summer did you become utterly insane?"

"I know what I'm doing."

"You know what you're doing. " Severus repeated, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from either his voice or face. "You see, I don't believe you do, because if you did, you would be aware that the potion you planned to brew is the darkest of dark magic. Never mind that brewing it requires blood magic, and do, please, ignore that one wrongly timed ingredient would mean your very slow and painful death. Don't even consider the risk to your soul for using THIS," he held up the unicorn blood, "or that the penalty, should you be caught, is a life sentence to Azkaban. And all for nothing, Potter, because even IF the potion is brewed perfectly, it doesn't bring back the person, but a ghoul, a creature without a soul."

"Sirius isn't dead. He wasn't dead when he fell. He doesn't belong there. He's waiting to be rescued."

"You stupid child. He. Is. Dead."

Potter lifted his chin and insisted, "I can make it work."

"Of course. Why am I not surprised? The famous Harry Potter will make it work out of sheer will power alone. Just like his father, the famous Harry Potter has nothing but careless disregard for the law. The famous Harry Potter will risk anything and everyone to bring back his worthless mutt of a -" The open handed blow to his face stunned him into silence and rocked him back on his heels.

Without pausing to think, Severus returned it, with the full force of his anger giving weight to his hand.

Potter lifted a hand and touched the red outline on his cheek with one hand, and then said, shockingly, "I shouldn't have hit you." And left the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

He didn't come out of his room for dinner and Severus, still furious, merely picked at his own. He finally gave up in disgust and wrote the threatened letter to Albus, stopping just short of demanding the boy's expulsion. Once the very thought would have made him happy. Now, however, he knew this was a futile hope. The boy was their key to Voldemort's defeat. And, he acknowledged bitterly, as he signed his name, entirely too dangerous to be unsupervised.

Once the owl was on its way, he went up the stairs, pausing in front of Potter's bedroom. No light shone from underneath the door and it was deathly quiet on the other side. He listened for a moment longer, then turned to his own room, where he tossed and turned for what felt like hours before falling into slumber.

He woke up aware that he wasn't alone. Before he could reach for his wand he heard, "I'm sorry."

Potter.

"Lumos."

The boy stood by the door. His eyes were huge. A bruise covered his cheek, and his lips were red and swollen, as if he'd been biting them.

He walked toward the bed when Severus made no move. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "You were right. It was stupid of me to think I could brew that potion." He paused beside the bed, then slowly sat, perching on the edge as if ready to bolt, hands tightly clenched together. His fingers twisted in his lap, and he stared at them before adding, "I shouldn't have talked Hermione and Ron into this, I shouldn't have put your reputation at risk."

Severus narrowed his eyes, sat up and decided to see how far this penitent act would go. "How did you manage the polyjuice?"

"A hair from your pillow." He hunched his shoulders and said, "The same for Mr. Weasley and Remus. From the last time they stayed here."

"You came into my room?"

"Kreacher got them for me," he said simply, still looking at his hands.

"And just how, Mister Potter, did you manage to get him to do your bidding?"

"I…" He looked up, bit his lip, then said in low voice, "I promised to give him something he wanted."

"What?" When Potter didn't answer, Severus rapped out, "What did you promise that traitorous little beast?"

"To put his head on the wall when he dies. That's all."

Potter met his gaze with an obvious air of trepidation, but once again, Severus couldn't sense a lie. He relaxed slightly and said, "I hope you don't imagine this changes anything. I've already sent my letter to Professor Dumbledore."

"No, sir."

Severus expected him to leave then. When he remained, still holding Severus' gaze, he barked out, "What?"

"I'm sorry, sir. About what I did. I'm just…I never had anyone before Sirius. And now I'm alone again."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?"

"No. I'd never expect that. I just thought maybe you'd understand."

"Understand what?"

"What it's like to be alone. To be lonely. To want someone that belongs to you, just to you. That you could belong to as well." He audibly swallowed, then reached out and lightly touched the mark his hand had made on Severus' face. Shock held him motionless.

His voice low, Potter said once again, "I'm sorry," and bolted from the room, leaving Severus alone and feeling Potter's touch every time he closed his eyes.

The next morning, Severus found Albus puttering in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Severus," he said without looking up from the pan he was stirring. "Eggs?"

"No. Thank you." Severus poured some tea, then sat at the table and watched as Albus stirred and seasoned, then finally slid a plate of eggs and sausages in front of him.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Severus," he said as he tucked into his own.

Severus grudgingly ate a few forkfuls and waited for Albus to finish before demanding, "Well? What are you going to do with him?"

"I assume you mean Harry."

"Pardon me, was there something other than yesterday's disgrace that brought you here?"

"It's entirely too early for sarcasm." Albus sipped his tea, closed his eyes and said, "Obviously Harry has not recovered as I'd assumed."

"Obviously."

"I had hoped a visit from his friends would have kept him from brooding." When Severus snorted, Albus said, mildly, "He is brooding, is he not Severus?"

"If by brooding you mean displaying an almost Slytherin-like ability to manipulate people and house-elves, then yes, he is."

When Albus raised an eyebrow in question, Severus relayed Potter's confession. For reasons he didn't pause to examine, he left out that it had taken place in his bedroom.

Albus frowned, but said nothing as he poured another cup of tea. After a sip, he asked, "And the recipe for the potion? Where did he find it?"

"From one of the books Kreacher was hiding," Potter said from the doorway. He stepped into the kitchen, stopping at the head of the table, head down and hands clenched at his sides. The very picture of contrition, Severus thought uncharitably. "I'm sorry, sir," he said directly to Albus, who watched him with keen eyes. "It was all my idea, all of it. Please don't punish Hermione and Ron."

"As Professor Snape most helpfully pointed out in his letter, using a polyjuice juice potion to impersonate someone in order to buy highly illegal substances is a very serious crime," Albus said quietly.

When Potter's expression went from apologetic to stricken, Albus raised a hand and added, "Nevertheless, I believe I understand the circumstances leading to this, er, incident are extenuating."

Potter let out a harsh breath, but still stood as if braced for a blow.

And Severus, who knew full well the Ministry would never hear of this, let his lips twist in a sardonic smile and waited for Albus to reel the boy in.

"Harry," Albus said gently, "the loss of Sirius was a terrible, terrible thing. For all of us. I understand that you miss him, that you perhaps even feel," he sent a glance to Severus, who dropped his eyes, "responsible. But make no mistake. His fate has been decided. It was unfair and tragic, more tragic than most. Nevertheless, he is lost to us."

Potter swallowed, then whispered, "I'm sorry, sir."

"My dear boy, I know you are. I would give anything to… Well. That's neither here nor there. We must, all of us, learn to proceed with our lives."

"I'll try."

"I know you will, Harry. Now, much as it pains me to deny you companionship, I cannot allow you to learn our actions are without repercussions. For the next month you may not see your friends, nor owl them. I am sure Molly has already spoken to Ron about this, as have Hermione's parents to her."

"They shouldn't be punished for my mistake, sir."

"They knew they were breaking the rules, Harry. They too must accept the consequences of their actions."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, of course, we are left with the dilemma of how best to keep you occupied."

Potter flickered a glance at Severus, then said, slowly, "I've been thinking, sir."

Albus leaned forward and raised his eyebrows. "About what?"

"I was wrong to stop going to my Occlumency lessons. I wondered," he paused, bit his lip, then said in a hesitant voice, "if Professor Snape would be willing to give me another chance."

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Severus?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy, parted his lips to protest that Potter was hopeless, that he never tried, when Potter spoke again.

"Sir, there's just one thing."

Severus folded his arms and caustically said, "The fact that you're incapable of applying yourself?"

Albus sent him a quelling look, then said, "Please continue, Harry."

"I think part of my problem learning Occlumency was not knowing how Legilimency works. I thought maybe if I learned how that works first, I could see how to defend against it."

"I think," Albus said after a moment of obvious consideration, "you may have a valid point."

In disbelief, Severus protested, "You cannot imagine I will make my private thoughts vulnerable to this--to HIM, Albus."

"I wouldn't expect you to, sir," Potter said earnestly. "You could use the pensieve to store anything you didn't want me to see. And you'd be controlling the experience, you would only allow me to see what you wanted me to."

"That sounds fair to me, Severus."

"Of course it sounds fair to you. You won't have Harry Potter trampling through your mind."

"Harry, excuse us. And please, help yourself to some breakfast. There's plenty."

Albus strode from the kitchen, obviously trusting Severus would follow. After sending a hate filled glare toward Potter, who dropped his eyes in response, Severus stalked after him into the hallway.

"You cannot be serious," he started, only to stop short at the expression in Albus' eyes.

And it was obvious this was not his friend and mentor standing in front of him. This was the headmaster of Hogwarts, and he was most unhappy with his Potions master. "I am quite serious, Severus. I had hoped that this summer would result in you, if not empathising with Harry's pain, at least being able to acknowledge it."

"I should like to point out there's hardly a way to ignore it when he steals my potion ingredients and my form in an attempt to assuage it."

"And yet," Albus said, "you don't seem to realise how truly desperate he must be to go to those lengths."

Severus grit his teeth and barely restrained himself from pointing out that it was Dumbledore's own permissiveness that had taught Potter he was above the rules, and that desperate, extravagant acts of foolishness would always be rewarded.

Seeming to sense this, Albus' eyes softened and he said, "I also blame myself for not being aware of his state of mind. Severus," he added gently, yet firmly, "if learning Legilimancy will help Harry, then I must insist we try. And perhaps if he's focused on something other than his grief, he can manage to let it go."

"As always, Headmaster, I am at your command."

And perhaps that came out more bitterly than he'd intended, because Albus gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder and said, "Thank you, Severus."

The lessons took place in his lab. Before each one, he carefully removed every memory and thought he didn't want Potter to see into the pensieve. The first time Potter watched him closely, then flushed, dropped his gaze and apologised. After that, Potter took pains to politely look away, as if even the removal was something private that he respected.

It was, Severus thought, quite an act.

However, as the lessons proceeded, and Potter learned how to pry into his mind, Severus found himself wondering if perhaps it wasn't an act. Potter never pushed beyond the boundaries Severus had laid down, never tried to see anything more than what Severus allowed. And when he pushed him out at the end of every lesson, Potter thanked him and never asked about the things he'd seen.

Not, he thought, as Potter clumsily peered at a memory of his Slytherin dorm room, that there would be much to ask about. He'd carefully chosen only the dullest, most harmless memories to be shared. He watched Potter examine the room, empty except for his younger self studying at his desk. Next was a Quidditch match, watching as Slytherin scored a goal, the rest of the crowd on their feet, him sitting alone on the edge of a bleacher. Then dinner, sixth year, his table mates inanely chattering something about some prank while he steadfastly ignored them, concentrating on his plate. Another dinner, this time at his family's home, the table silent as his mother and father ignored each other and him. And then his lab at Hogwarts, brewing a sleeping draught and clutching his left arm, pain visible in every line of his body as he paced and--

Potter broke the contact this time and said, "Sorry, sir."

Severus blinked, then asked, "What, precisely, are you sorry for?"

The boy bit his lip, then quietly said, "It seemed private, sir. I didn't want to intrude."

He was surprised into another blink, then bit out, "It was nothing. We’re done. You may leave."

That evening Severus found Potter in the kitchen before him. He wordlessly accepted a plate of food and began to eat, only pausing when Potter slid into the seat opposite him.

Like him, the boy ate silently, then surprisingly, poured Severus tea when they'd finished.

"Thank you," Severus said stiffly.

"You're welcome. Professor?"

"What is it, Potter?"

"I was wondering…" His voice trailed off and he bit his lip.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, just spit it out."

"I know I did well on the practical for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But, you know Umbridge really didn't teach us anything."

"Surely it hasn't escaped you that this was exactly her intention?"

Potter flushed a little and nodded before saying, "Hermione brought…" then flushed again, but pressed on. "I saw the text for next year and it references theory I'm not familiar with. I'm worried I'll fall behind."

"Why are you telling me? Go complain to the headmaster."

"I'm not complaining, sir. Just wondering if maybe…"

"What?"

"If you could, I mean, if you weren't too busy, if maybe you could teach me."

"You are aware this is supposed to be my holiday? And surely it hasn't escaped your notice I'm already spending my free time instructing you in Legilimency?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"However," he said with only a touch of sarcasm, "I'm sure it wouldn't do for the hero of the wizarding world to not know the difference between a deflection and a shielding spell." When the boy's eyes lit up with hopeful gratitude, Severus added, "I'll consider it."

Albus sent the books he'd requested the following day.

Much to his surprise, Potter didn't whine about the heavy course work Severus assigned. Nor did he complain about the desk in Severus' lab, just nodded and slid into his chair while Severus brewed potions and watched him, waiting for him to slip into a day dream or doodle on his parchment. Yet at the end of each day, he turned in a completed assignment that Severus, much to his disgust, couldn't find fault with.

It was behaviour entirely atypical of the boy, and Severus waited for it to break. No one, especially Harry Potter, was that good an actor.

But after some time had passed, Severus was forced to wonder if perhaps it wasn't an act. Perhaps Potter had simply matured. He didn't once try to have the ban on seeing or owling his friends reversed. Indeed, he never even mentioned them. During lessons, he was quiet and respectful. He began to take every meal with Severus and tentatively asked questions afterward, not just about his assignments, but about potions as well. These questions eventually led to discussions in the sitting room afterward, with Potter curled in a chair opposite him and displaying an attentiveness Severus had never once observed in the classroom.

When they switched from Legilimency to Occlumency, he proved so adept that Severus could only read what the boy allowed him to see.

He also took to wearing his hair longer and neatly brushed, and it surprised Severus sometimes to realize how little he now resembled James.

And sometimes he would stay in the sitting room after the lessons had been discussed, seemingly content to stare into the fire and share Severus' company.

And sometimes they would simply read in silent companionship until Harry bade him a quiet, "Good night, sir."

And sometimes when Severus was in bed, he would trace a finger over his cheek then flush and call himself a fool.

But when he was allowed to see his friends again, Harry always seemed to cut the visit short, then come to Severus' lab and watch him brew potions, not saying a word until Severus noticed him, and then would ask if he could help.

During one such visit, Severus paused outside of Potter's door when he heard Ron Weasley's voice raised in what sounded like anger.

"What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You hardly ever owl, and when you do, it's all Snape this and Snape that and Snape thinks. What's wrong with you?"

"He's not so bad."

"He's Snape! He's the enemy!"

"He's not my enemy. He helps me. He's strong and smart and I-"

"You what?"

"Never mind. You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't understand? Harry, do you have any idea what you sound like? Next thing you know you're going to be telling me you like him."

There was a pause, then Harry's voice, flat and cold. "If you have a problem with that, then maybe you should go."

Severus backed away from the door and returned to his lab, and after a moment of consideration, started to brew a calming potion. A few minutes later Harry eased into the room, eyes bright, cheeks a little flushed and lips trembling, as if he wanted to cry but wouldn't allow himself to. Severus simply handed him a knife and told him he could slice the valerian.

After dinner, Harry curled up next to him on the sofa with a book, but spent more time peeping over the top of it than reading.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You were staring at me."

"I just like looking at you sometimes."

And when Severus went to bed that night, his hand didn't go to his cheek, but under his blanket, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep silent when he came.

The next morning in the kitchen Harry greeted him with a smile. Severus found himself involuntarily returning it, and didn't move away when Harry took a seat next to him instead of his usual place on the other side of the table.

When Harry came to his room two nights later and said that he'd had a dream about Voldemort, Severus didn't challenge him, but invited him in and let the boy sit on his bed in the dark and tell him about it. And then to slip in next to him when he said he was cold, and to stay when he said he was still afraid.

Severus didn't sleep for hours that night, but held himself carefully motionless as Harry cuddled closer in his sleep, as he sighed and wrapped his arms and legs around Severus as if-- And Severus cut that thought short, closed his eyes and carefully thought of nothing until he finally fell asleep.

In the morning, he woke up alone.

They did not speak of the night's events during the day, but when a quiet knock came on his door after he'd retired, Severus wasn't at all surprised, and his voice was steady when he said, "Come in."

Harry hesitated after he shut the door, one hand still gripping the knob. His face was pale in the moonlight, his eyes large and dark. His voice when he spoke was low, as if he had a constriction in his throat. "Did I wake you?"

"No." Severus sat up, smoothed the blanket and asked, "Another bad dream?"

"No." He took a deep breath, released the door knob and walked to the bed, paused, licked his lips and said, "Can I--I mean, would you mind if I…?

Severus raised an eyebrow and waited.

Harry kissed him, his lips still sticky and sweet from pumpkin juice. It was an unskilled kiss, clumsy and hesitant, yet still had the power to make him tremble.

Severus allowed it for a moment, then pulled back, firmly holding the boy away from him.

Eyes still closed, Harry whispered, "Please, sir. Please."

"Why? Why me?"

"Because you're the only one who knows."

Knows what, Severus wondered, then gasped when Harry's eyes opened, heavy and solemn, and his fingers gently traced Severus' cheekbone.

This was wrong, it was folly, it was madness. It was impossible to stop himself from taking another kiss, and then another when Harry softly cried out into his mouth when Severus touched him.

He trembled when Severus peeled away his pajamas, bit his lip when Severus settled between his legs, cried as Severus sank into him. Yet he still clung, wordlessly urged Severus on with his arms and legs and panting breaths.

And when he came, his mouth soft, his cheeks flushed and wet, Severus shuddered, let his release overtake him and didn't even try to keep silent, but murmured, "Harry."

During the day they maintained the polite fiction of professor and student, and no visitor would ever guess that each night Harry Potter would sweetly beg to be kissed, to be touched, to be fucked, and that when he came, he cried out his potion master's name.

And if sometimes a small, nasty inner voice spoke up and hoped that, wherever he was, James could see exactly what his son was doing, it wasn't something Severus was particularly proud of afterward.

Not, he thought as he watched Harry study, that he had anything to be especially proud about. A student. He was fucking a student. His student. Harry Potter. He'd crossed many lines in the past, but never this particular one, although, when he forced himself to honestly look at the matter, he'd never wanted to. Before. Never mind that the boy had clearly intended to seduce him. Albus might be able to forgive him a great many things, but not this.

But in comparison to the other things he'd done, surely this was the least of his sins. Harry seemed content enough. As if sensing his thoughts, Harry lifted his gaze from his book and gave Severus a crooked smile.

When Severus returned it, Harry stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him, face raised in obvious expectation.

And while it broke their unspoken rule to at least make an attempt at the pretence of propriety during the day, Severus couldn't seem to stop his arms from pulling Harry into an embrace.

After a soft kiss, Harry asked, lips still touching his, "Will you do something for me?"

"What?"

"I was thinking. When we get back to school. We won't be able to see each other, will we? I mean, not like this."

"No. But," he said after he'd kissed away Harry's frown, "it's only for a the school year. Afterward we can--"

"But we don't have to wait."

"Harry, it won't be right. Not there. There's no way."

"If you asked Professor Dumbledore, I bet he would say you could keep teaching me Occlumency."

"You don't need any further lessons and I won't lie to the headmaster."

"Then tell him I want you to keep tutoring me in defense. You'd be better than anyone they hire anyway."

And that wouldn't be a lie, not really, Severus reasoned. Not if they actually had lessons before… "I'll think about it," he said gruffly.

That evening, in bed, Severus quietly said, "I wrote him."

"And? What did he say?"

"He said I may continue to tutor you."

Harry slid down his body, pressing kisses against his chest and down his stomach until he finally stopped, mouth hovering just over his cock, then, to Severus' pleased astonishment, did his best to swallow it.

Kreacher died unexpectedly. Severus found Harry kneeling over the small, still body in the kitchen, the elf's over sized head set at an odd angle on his spindly neck.

"He must have spilled some tea and slipped," Harry said quietly, not looking up, and Severus noticed the puddle on the floor.

He knelt next to Harry, then brushed his hair out of his eyes. They were dry and clear. Even so, he said, "I'm sorry. I know you'd become close to the little wretch."

"I suppose," Harry said, voice as calm and clear as his eyes. Yet he held one of Kreacher's hands in his, one finger lightly circling the wrist.

"Would you like me to take care of disposing of it?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I need to do it."

Later he found Harry putting his head up on the wall.

"It's what he wanted," Harry said when Severus made a face. The little plaque read For Loyal Service, and Severus supposed that was true enough. Even so, he found something about it unsettling and took pains to avoid the front hall where Kreacher's eyes were perpetually fixed on the portrait of Mrs. Black, his wizened face frozen in an expression of what Severus could swear was astonishment.

Harry was quieter in the aftermath of Kreacher's death, less prone to smile and taken to moments of introspection that left him almost haunted looking. Yet he came to Severus every night as eagerly as before, in fact, almost overly so. The desperation in his eyes would have been almost been disquieting had it not been mirrored in his body.

"Please," he cried, pulling Severus in deeper, his body twisting, his eyes wide open and pleading. "Please, I need you, I need you to-" then bit his lip and moaned when Severus thrust.

"Anything," Severus murmured, not even thinking, lost in the tight clasp of Harry's body, held by his eyes. "Anything."

Afterward, Harry clung to him, trembling and whispered, "You promise?"

And despite being a man who never made promises anymore, lightly or otherwise, Severus murmured back, "I promise."

Two weeks before school was due to start, Severus was notified of a staff meeting at Hogwarts. "Going over he curriculum," he said as he threw the letter on the table. "Waste of time is more like it. My schedule has been done for months."

Harry glanced at the letter and slowly said, "Will you be gone long?"

"Just a few hours. You'll be all right alone?"

"Fine," Harry answered, but for some reason seemed reluctant to meet his eyes.

"You could have one of your friends floo in to keep you company," Severus offered, the words sour in his mouth.

"No, I'll be fine alone," Harry repeated. "I have things to keep me busy."

The staff meeting was indeed the waste of time Severus had predicted. Like every year, no one had any significant changes to their courses. He suspected it was merely Albus' way of introducing the new Defense professor, some twit named Clancy Clearwater, whose specialty was, Merlin help them, hinkypunks.

Severus didn't stay for introductions or to give Albus a chance to quiz him about Harry. Not the he had any doubts about his skill as an Occlumens, but something about Harry's expression when he left nagged at him all through the meeting, made him anxious to get back.

He Apparated back to Number 12 with a feeling of relief and found Harry waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

"Meeting go all right?"

While removing his cloak, Severus said, "As I expected," then added waspishly, "Since your new DADA instructor is an utter fool, it's just as well we've already made other arrangements for you. I weep for the rest of your class."

Harry gave him a small smile, then said, his voice low, "Yes. I know you'll help me."

As Severus mounted the stairs he asked, "And you? How did you keep yourself occupied while I was away?"

His seemingly innocent question made Harry drop his eyes and shift, as if nervous. His tongue touched his lips before he answered, "I started something in the lab, but I wanted to wait for you to finish it."

Ah. "Got in over your head, did you?"

"Yes," Harry said seriously. He took Severus' hand and pulled him toward the lab, then paused before the door and said, "This is…this is really important to me. Please-"

Feeling indulgent, Severus stroked Harry's cheek and said, "What?"

He looked at him, his eyes pleading, cheeks pale. "Please don't be angry. Don't say anything until you hear me out."

Severus felt the beginnings of a worried frown draw his brows together, but nevertheless nodded and said, "Very well."

Harry squeezed his hand, then opened the door, motioning Severus in. The first thing he noticed was an almost sweet smell with a faint undertone of decay, like flowers rotting on a grave.

"What," he started, then paused, dumbstruck, when he realized what the source of the odor was. The empty container of unicorn blood merely confirmed it.

Harry moved to stand by the cauldron and lightly touched the ladle, then put his hands behind his back. "I started the base. It seemed safe enough. And I have everything else ready."

The liquid in the cauldron shimmered silver. On the table next to it sat a black urn and, Severus saw with no small amount of dismay, a small hand.

He stared up at Severus, eyes still pleading. "All we need is a few drops of your blood at the end."

Feeling as though he'd taken a Bludger to the head, Severus managed, "Harry, I told you, it won't-"

"You said I couldn't," Harry interrupted. "You were right. But you're the best there is. I know you are. You could do it."

Severus took a deep breath and fought back the urge to shake Harry for daring to even make the suggestion. Forcing his hands and voice to be gentle, he grasped Harry's shoulders and said, "Even if I brewed it properly, it won't do what you think it will. If it were that easy, no one would ever grieve over the loss of a loved one. If it were that easy, you wouldn't be an orphan."

Harry trembled under his hands, but his voice remained steady as he said, "It wasn't a normal death. There wasn't a body. And Sirius wouldn't have left me, ever. If he was dead, he would have come back as a ghost. He's not gone. He just needs to be rescued."

And for a moment, just for a moment, Severus was tempted to do it. Brew the potion, let Harry see, once and for all what he was asking for so he could let it go. But it would be cruel, far more cruel than letting him have this hopeless delusion. "I won't, Harry. I can't."

"You said anything," Harry whispered, his eyes bright and accusing, his mouth a stubborn slant. "You promised."

Severus flushed and damned himself a thousand times before answering, "Not this. Anything but this."

Harry sagged against him like something inside him had broken. "Please," Harry whispered, "Please, Severus."

And that, hearing Harry choke out his name, something he never did outside of the bedroom almost undid him. His hands flexed on Harry's shoulders, unsure whether he wanted to hold him closer or push him away. "Don't ask this of me."

"I don't have anyone else to ask. You're the only one. I thought you-" He broke off, pressed his lips together and took a deep breath before continuing, "Severus. I'm begging you. I'll do whatever you want, be whatever you want. Just do this for me. Please."

The word, "No," felt like a stone, hard and heavy in his mouth, and when he let it drop, Harry trembled as if he'd been struck.

Harry pulled away, stared into Severus' eyes for a long moment, then silently walked out of the room.

He didn't come to Severus' bed that night, and when he went to Harry's room, the door was locked, but his voice was steady when he said he wanted to be alone. And that was normal, Severus thought. Understandable. He was upset, he was disappointed. In time, he would adjust to the loss and everything would return to the way it had been.

He told himself that the next night and the next and even until a week later mostly believed it. Two weeks later and he wasn't so sure. Nothing had changed during the day. Harry was polite, but distant, much the same as he had when he'd first arrived.

It was on the day before they were due to return to Hogwarts when Severus paused in front of Kreacher's sad little plaque that he realized how much Harry had learned over the summer. Fury and no doubt bitter recrimination would come later, but for the moment there was only the numb comprehension of how much of a fool he'd been.


End file.
